


Home Again

by Haurcheradish (PrincessFoureyes)



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: BDSM, Begging, Blindfolds, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Drunk Sex, Everyone gets a fuckign breather after HW AU, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Grinding, I hope yall like half sarcastic kinda mushy Estinien because, LORDY LOO THIS IS THE FIRST SMUT I EVER DID WRITTEN, Light Bondage, M/M, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, im so sorry in advance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 16:34:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13744941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessFoureyes/pseuds/Haurcheradish
Summary: “... As much as I enjoy being free of the incessant mewling of idiots constantly about mine ears, these worlds get lonely when there’s no one to walk them with… When the only hide you fight for is your own.” Taking another sip, Estinien leaves his glass on the small table aside the seat. “Fighting with no reason is useless conflict. ‘Tis like a verse that exists with no direction or purpose-- it leaves me only empty, and angry.”“Ah, I see… So, you were lonely, then?”“Aye.”“... Are you lonely still?”“Nay.” Estinien’s eyes drag over to the fireplace, and Aymeric can swear he sees the other’s cheeks flush red, even when drenched in amber light. “There exists nothing better than the solace of a man who knows you like the back of your hand.”





	Home Again

**Author's Note:**

> AH goodness. This is the first smut I've ever written, so I'm very sorry for anything awkward in advance? Also sorry for anything that could've used more description, too... There'll probably be a day when I come back and revise this aftER I KNOW BETTER
> 
> this is a (late!) valentine's day gift for my girlfriend Wolfie, however! Happy three years of hell with me!! I love you more than the moon, the sun and the stars, and I'm excited to see us move forward together <3 <3 <3
> 
> the only last thing I have to explain is that this is some dumb AU where HW happens and then this miraculous thing happens called "everyone gets a break". It's amazing, Square Enix, I know. Either way, Estinien has been gone for the last two years traveling, and Aymeric? misses him. why the fuck wouldn't he.
> 
> so without further ado, I proudly present: Aymeric, dicking down

Snow was not an uncommon occurrence within Ishgard-- quite the opposite, should truth be told. Yet the storms of ice that lingered upon the horizon seemed so much… colder. 

These last two years, all had seemed much darker; the clouds that rise in the skies above, hungrier evermore for the light of the sun beyond. Aymeric could pretend as if he didn’t know why, shrug off Lucia’s concern with feign contentment or concentration. As much as she never bought it, she never pushed forward-- both knew why; an unspoken truth that ensorcelled the air around them; Intertwined with such longing...

Yet still, here he waited... on a particularly chilled day, the blizzard winds wrapping around him and threatening each limb and joint the bite of their wrath. Bundled he was in fine metals, fine leathers and furs. Such were as thick as the blankets of snow that hugged the mountain sides in a protective embrace. But the chill never pierced his armor and skin as it once had, the winds that threatened to echo through his chain mail and into his veins never were so adamant as they’d been before… For once, the harsh snap was something he could deal with, through red cheeks, even reddened nose, and breath that danced along his visage before ever fading into the sky, letting the winds carry with it on.

Two years it had been, since he’d left Ishgard. Two years it’d been since he came home again… Two years left thinking about the years that’ve spanned past, the transpiring Dragonsong and ten years afore, when they trained as knights… A vicious rivalry, an unbreakable camaraderie that years could not break, yet an uncomfortable feeling of loneliness that nipped at Aymeric’s heart.

The Lord Commander kept blooms in his vice grip, and though the leaves froze still and the petals threatened to flake against the winds, he held those flowers to his chest, and awaited patiently by the gates of Ishgard; a large maw, that separated this world, from… the one outside. 

Ever since their opening, Aymeric had yearned to leave these gates once more, to see the realm as it had been reborn in the Battle of Cartenaeu, and all such wars and battles beyond. He wanted to see the lands, and their people, the aether it breathed… but with the task of leading the House of Lords in his hands, such luxury is never one that could rightfully be afforded.

It’s not a fate he would wish upon any other. But, he’d been gone for two, long years, and… sometimes, Aymeric swore patience was his strong suit. Sometimes, he was wrong.

But he was back today, and so Aymeric would wait.

He waited long until the figures passed through the streets, ebbing in the gates and flowing into the world. He waited… waited long until the arms of the sun stretched their width across the skies, and slowly sunk back down to the horizon. Nothing would move him from his spot, not dying light nor whispers of town gossip…

The only folly with the other’s letters, is that when he gave the date he’d be back, he’d never given the time.

Aymeric  _ wanted _ so desperately to say, that as the sun sank, his spirits only grew. That the excitement welling in his chest expounded with every single moment, but such could not be more opposite. It was taking him nearly everything he could to keep from silent tears, watching dutifully through the gates, muscles tense as he deigned to keep his posture upright and his head held high. 

_ Had he been injured on his way back? Were the letters all a long-winded rouse?  _ The thought crossed through his head, but he  _ refused _ to ponder such further. It would only end in heartbreak. …  _ He would not throw away ten long years… They must have meant something to him too... _

“Ever the hopeless romantic, you are, Aymeric.”   
  
The rasp made Aymeric’s attention snap forward. He almost pushed the flowers ahead of him, defensive in action, but kept the frozen petals close to his chest instead. He looked around the crowd, nearly in a wild stupor with lips peeking slightly open in confusion, before…

His marred form stood before him. Scars etched into practiced skin, slightly tanned with the sun of lands far off. The other wore not the plate he donned before, but thick smallclothes and packs hitching various new armaments and armors at his side. His bags were full of artifacts of the world beyond, scavenged and thoughtfully plucked, hidden away as neatly as they could be. All carried by a frame as sturdy and attentive as it ever was, and ever had been.   
  
“Estinien…” Aymeric couldn’t help but leak a smile, a slight laugh on his tongue. “You speak of me?” The Lord Commander smiled, as did the dragoon before him.

“As if I would anyone else in this clearing.”  There was a slight pause between them, a space that seemed filled with the appreciation both held for each other, though unspoken. Aymeric shifted in his armors, and Estinien stifled a small snicker, through a trademark grin.

“... The flowers, so you know, were Lucia’s idea.” They were absolutely  _ not _ Lucia’s idea, they were  _ Aymeric’s _ idea, he just wouldn’t full admit it. He hadn’t been planning this day from the moment the former Azure Dragoon sent foot to the worlds beyond… no, not at all. Finally holding out the now slightly deflated, frozen petals toward the other, Aymeric sighed a bit nervous, letting his fingertips play with the droopy leaves. “We thought it best to welcome back a hero of Ishgard proper--”

“--Dead flowers? Charmed. I feel due respect.”

“They-- I… they weren’t  _ meant _ to be this dead.”

As Aymeric’s face deflated, humiliation laughing and biting in his stomach, Estinien paced forward. Inspecting the gift in the other’s grasp for just a moment… he accepted it. Despite his friendly sarcasm, he tucked the white and pink petals in between his arms, careful enough not to knock any of the frozen buds onto the ground as he did so. A delicate touch, that showed tender care.

Yet still, the Lord Commander’s face wrought itself with worry. The Dragoon just chuckled as he paced forward, motioned for the other to follow. “Worry yourself not, Aymeric, for I jest. But come-- or I should freeze my arse off before I even the chance to use it.”

Estinien had been gone for two years of long travel, ever since the Dragonsong ended. Finding himself anew was an important aspect of what his life now was, and so spent these last few years attempting to find it. In doing so, he traveled the whole of Eorzea, and even some of Doman. They’d been corresponding in letters over these months, sending back and forth their exploits… their thoughts. It took Aymeric everything not to divulge just how  _ much _ he missed the other’s presence ever at his side these past few months, lamenting of how he wished he could be at the others side to see what he saw and do as he did. Instead, he’s here… with paperwork, with politic. 

But now, he was here with  _ Estinien. _ He’d made sure to designate his duties amidst his guard and fellow politicians, expressly to save a few days, mayhaps even a few weeks should he be lucky enough, just to welcome his old friend home.

It took a while to reach the manor, Aymeric helping with what luggage he could. They settled the Dragoon into the largest suite on de Borel’s manor, and unloaded each of the other’s trinkets around the room.

Upon fishing out a dragon, carved of a fine wood, Estinien paces up behind Aymeric. Light from the candle fonts paint everything in a cozy amber, especially with the windows drawn, and the two men edging closer. The Lord Commander notes the craftsmanship of the carving-- expertly burned, to create an emulation of the textures of scales running over the dragon’s surface. Its maw was covered in miniscule, sharp teeth of tediously crafted glass, and the eyes filled with stones that ate any light and gave it a brighter glint. The statue just barely fit in both of de Borel’s palms, and caused an awe to wash over him unlike anything else.   
  
“I thought such an item befitting of the benefactor that brought us all a momentary onze of peace.” The dragoon laughed just slightly, a tickle on his breath that was only a little discreet. “I was meaning to give it to you later, but it seems you beat me to it. Thank you kindly for giving yourself mine own gift.”

Aymeric’s face was wide, eyes still glazing over the statue, as he looked between Estinien and the piece he held in his hands. “Was it a gift for later? I… apologize, however, this is… Estinien, where did you find such a piece? I cannot rightfully accept this from you--”   
  
“-- You  _ shall, _ Aymeric, lest the gesture be all for naught.”   
  
“You would not keep it for yourself?”

“Why keep something that is not mine?” The Dragoon raised Aymeric a brow, as he posed the question. “I bartered for it on the Ul’dahn markets myself, always with intent that I would see it home to you. Never was it mine in the first place.”

Holding the carved dragon close to himself, as he once did with the flowers, Aymeric turned to observe the rest of the room. What was once an empty guest chamber, now sprung to life with the various artifacts of a trip well earned, and well lived. Trinkets lined nearly every corner-- Estinien never quite struck the Lord Commander as one who was innately interested in keepsakes, but… perhaps that’s when his life was more bleak, more focussed on one goal now attained. The Dragoon himself, dressed down to the comfy furs of de Borel’s provided house clothes, hair pulled in a loose bun behind him as the rest of his hair fell around his shoulders.

Had it gotten longer since he was gone? That wasn’t in the letters. Nor was…

“Is that a new scar over your collar, there?” It was neatly hidden within the breast of his clothing, slightly pulled so the other’s chest was exposed when he bent to place something down or pick it up. However, since this part was over, the piece of clothing hung loose, and what peeked through was a fresh pink slash. Not one that Aymeric had ere seen before this moment.

Estinien’s gaze cast downward when the other mentioned it, puzzled for a moment, before looking back up, “I did not suspect I would be able to keep it a secret from your discerning gaze ere long, however…”

“Was it from your encounter with the wespe nest? The one you informed me of?” Instantly the Lord Commander breaks into a wide grin, a chuckle playing the tune of his own voice.

“T’was not just  _ one _ nest, Aymeric. I told you, there were three, and they caught me  _ off guard. _ ” Excuses, excuses. The prospect makes Aymeric’s giggling rise from his throat, just slightly, shaking his head as he glances over the other. Estinien scowls slightly, signature to his form, though the expression is not as well known to Aymeric as it is to others. “I speak the  _ truth. _ ”

“I just find it nigh hard to believe the former Azure Dragoon, nearly bested by a nest of--”

Estinien calculates for a moment, and despite what frustration he can feign, it rolls off with an enjoyable snicker that mirrors that of Aymeric across from him. “ _ Bested?  _ Such harsh wording! I’d call it nothing so-- merely just a mishap, or… insect harassment.”

“Are you so sure?” Aymeric fiddled with the statue in his hands, running his thumbs up and down the scales, as he shot a sly look at the elezen across from him. “Your letter complained about it with such rigorous detail, I was near sure they’d come just short of stealing your head.”

“They might as well have, I had full right to--”

Knuckles rasp against the door to the chambers, and Lucia’s voice informs: “If the two of you are finished with unloading, dinner is prepared and the dining hall has been set.”

Their gazes rest upon each other a moment longer, and the air between them seems to crackle with a spark that de Borel sorely missed. Stepping aside, he holds the door open for the Dragoon, grin still wide.

“By your leave, Estinien.”

 

~~~

 

“I much prefer the firewaters of Ul’dah’s artisans, than the fruity rums of beached pirates in Limsa. A man can only take so much sweet ‘fore their teeth begin to rot… Come to think if it, I am surprised my teeth did not crumble and fall away while I was there.” Estinien paused in his drunk ramblings, but only to take another sip. “The only thing they had perfected by the time I was there was their sour ales…”

Dinner went well as it could’ve been-- as Aymeric likes to think. For such an occasion, he had the members of his house prepare the finest of meats, bring the most prolific of their vintages from the cellars beneath… It didn’t take long before Estinien had downed about half the bottle himself, and demanded something stronger. Moving from wine and steak, to idle talk over smoky whiskies that burned adamant as dragon’s breath, and from the dining room to the fireplace of a personal lounge. Most of their previous time had been taken with eating, as the Dragoon seemed more hungry than words could begin to fathom. However, as they moved rooms, Estinien didn’t seem to mind divulging about his journey-- expanding on what was in the letters he sent to the Lord Commander, and introducing what he hadn’t.

“For some strange reason, I am not surprised to hear the words from your lips.” Aymeric looks over at the other, wreathed once more in amber light. Estinien’s expression was… blissful, in the kind of way that Aymeric rarely ever got to see. 

A sigh from both reverberate around the room, as they sink into the couch upon which they sit. Aymeric takes one side, while Estinien takes the other, but the Dragoon has positioned himself so that his legs sit across the couch, and the balls of his heels tap into the Lord Commander’s outer thigh.

“... I suppose yet one question remains,.” Poses de Borel, looking down at the glass that he’s filled… Fury knows how many times over by this point.   


“Mmmmmh?” The other’s response is couth.

Sitting forward in his seat just slightly, Aymeric casts his gaze upon him.  _ “Did _ you learn anything new of yourself? Did you… find anything?”

Estinien looks as though he ponders for a moment. Ceasing to lean against the arm of the seat, he too draws himself a bit forward. “Two years is… not nearly enough time to find purpose.” The Lord Commander hums in agreement. “However… That is not to say the pilgrimage wasn’t useful in its entirety. There were some things I found along the way.”

“What wisdom have you for me?”

Shooting a side glance at Aymeric, it’s an unspoken secret that what he says now does  _ not _ leave the room. The Lord Commander seals it with a nod.

“... As much as I enjoy being free of the incessant mewling of idiots constantly about mine ears, these worlds get lonely when there’s no one to walk them with… When the only hide you fight for is your own.” Taking another sip, Estinien leaves his glass on the small table aside the seat. “Fighting with no reason is useless conflict. ‘Tis like a verse that exists with no direction or purpose-- it leaves me only empty, and angry.”

“Ah, I see… So, you were lonely then?”

“Aye.”

“... Are you lonely still?”

“Nay.” Estinien’s eyes drag over to the fireplace, and Aymeric can swear he sees the other’s cheeks flush red, even when drenched in amber light. “There exists nothing better than the solace of a man who knows you like the back of your hand.”

“All the nooks and crannies…” Muses de Borel, keeping sunny eyes directly on the other across from him. “Even the new ones.”

“Be not surprised if the next time you mention my newest addition,” the Dragoon’s eyes flicker over, and narrow just slightly in playful protest, “that mine claws meet your neck with speed unparalleled on this realm and all others.” The retort is spoken lightly, and leaves no sting-- just a contented laugh from de Borel that rings through the air.

“Said as though I would not enjoy such?”

The remark is quick and witty enough, that whatever Estinien was about to say stops in his throat, and the cogs turn inside of his mind. “... Am I… mistaken? Have my ears fallen off, or are these drinks slurring my hearing as well?”

“‘Tis whatever you’d prefer it to be.” Aymeric leans back for the last sip of his drink.

A moment of silence watches over them, as the Dragoon raises a brow to Aymeric, and pushes himself to his knees. Crawling across the couch toward the other, he locks eyes with the Lord and continues ever forward. For a glancing moment, de Borel’s expression is wrought with the slight worry of having offended the other. However, when Estinien reaches forward and grabs for the tufts of black hair on the Lord Commander’s head, all worry melts away. “... To set the record straight, I would much prefer my teeth to your neck--”   
  
“--Nngh-- Estinien, quiet! Or you will--”

“--If you think I am being  _ quiet, _ or that  _ you _ are, either, then you are  _ sorely _ mistaken.”

The grip in Aymeric’s hair was sublime. Strong enough to exert some sort of control, to speed the heart rate steadily in the Lord Commander’s chest and send a flush of warmth spreading to his limbs. Breath started to cloud around their faces as the excitement hitched, and only more so with the tone of Estinien’s commands. It wasn’t a suggestion he’d mused-- but a proclamation. An  _ order. _

De Borel pulled his legs in close to him neatly, but as he did so, the Dragoon’s free hand placed itself stalwart on the other’s knee. His eyes shone alight with the same grin that danced across his lips, wicked and decisive, as if… he’d been planning something along these lines for all too long. 

Estinien’s grip curled around the other’s hair, tightened. As he did so, a small gasp fell from Aymeric’s lips. The latter’s hand instinctively raised to grab onto the Dragoon’s wrist, as that grip bore into the Lord slightly, before pulling him back down into the cushions of the couch beneath. Sliding down slowly, Estinien’s hand that sat perched over the other’s knee started to pry it from its former sitting position, opening a way for him to place himself over the other’s warming, tingling body.

Aymeric’s ears flickered in acquiescence to the treatment. 

“Is that not better? I quite more like you this way.” Estinien’s voice was rough, but silky low, and enchantingly so… Aymeric attempted a scoff, thwarted by a soft hiss as the Dragoon raked eager nails down into the inside of the other’s thigh. Then, a flickering of his hand upward to take the Lord Commander’s chin in his fingertips.

For a moment, they examined each other, tangled in one another’s embrace. Aymeric’s hands found their timid way to the other’s waist with barely a word. The warmth of an old friend hovering between his legs, a familiarity that Aymeric could drown himself into and breathe easy for the entirety of his life thereon… That was Estinien. “Fury take mercy on me...”

“May she, for I know I certainly shall not.”

Those words are enough for Aymeric to feel his blood rushing downwards, if not for the touch. Breaths hitching rise into needy gasps and miniscule moans, that the Dragoon quickly sweeps into passionate and hard kisses, filled with teeth and tongue; Sloppy and warm, each movement eagerly drifted from lips to warm skin. As if needing something to hold him into this world, the Lord Commander pulls at the other’s lips in hungry nips, affording them chance moments to breathe, but only as Estinien allowed. The latter ran an eager hand down the other’s chest, musing over the cloth of the smallclothes both of them wore. Slipping fingertips beneath it, he allowed his claws to brush over the muscles of the knight beneath him. 

The Dragoon’s voice keened in appreciation through warm huffs, as Aymeric writhed and struggled slightly beneath him. Quick, eager, Estinien’s hands took the other’s chest in their embrace. Idly thumbing over the other’s hardening nipples, he finally dropped his hand from the back of de Borel’s head to dip beneath his shirt, and have nails find their way across the other’s waist and sides. “‘Tis not often anymore I get to enjoy the sight of the Lord Commander struggling ‘neath my embrace…”

Aymeric attempted to retort, before he was immediately quieted by a snap of his clothing’s hem to his hips, and Estinien’s voracious growl: “Your legs spread for  _ me _ ,” the Lord Commander shudders in pleasure, “are a gift much unlike any other I have ever seen… No image but what mine eyes show me now could ever do such justice.”

However, as Estinien pushed himself back, to spread the other’s legs apart, the Lord Commander, with a sigh of pleasure, relinquished, “A-aye, however… In case something of… this nature were to transpire,” Aymeric had been imagining this day for  _ years, _ “I had prepared some… essentials, in your room.”

_ “Later.” _ Estinien grunts heavy, impatient hands reaching for the wrappings that (surprisingly) still covered Aymeric’s legs. Able to pull them quickly off in one fell swoop, the Dragoon orders, “For now, I would have you right here.”

The sharp pain of raking claws caught the Lord Commander up in an arching back, hips pressing to Estinien’s where both of their bodies clashed. Aymeric ground for what friction he could, as the other stripped the rest of the clothes to the floor. The Lord was already hardening, the member in between his legs plumpening and complanitavely red, begging for touch with no words.

Unfortunately for Aymeric, the Dragoon was  _ not _ so easily swayed to action. Busy hands that played along the other’s back and hips, slowly slid around, making circles back up by the other’s chest, and then down betwixt the other’s thighs. Careful, yet rough fingers kneaded the skin around, applying enough pressure to make Aymeric struggle as a few pitched cries were carefully drawn from his lips.

_ “Oooh, _ Estinie-- Estinien…”

“Whine all you like,” nails across the Lord’s thigh, and soon a few nibbles, as the Dragoon started with a few kisses to trail the other’s sensitive skin, “you get  _ nothing _ ‘til you beg.”

The words pull a tact,  _ “Mmmmmnh,” _ from de Borel’s lips, desperate in edge and glazed smooth in texture.

Estinien, pleased with the response, pushes the other ever onward. Greedy hands taking grip of the other’s inner thighs, while teeth hungry for skin coated whereover those hands tread. Taking in small nips and tiny mouthfuls, the Azure Dragoon suckled until the skin beneath complained a dark crimson hue-- welts sure to stay by the dawn’s calling. The action on his legs caused Aymeric’s muscles to tense, as he lets his head roll on his shoulders with a wanting sigh.

“Like this, you are a masterpiece… Yet I still hear nothing from your lips.” The rich voice had lifted from his thighs. While the hands still remained there to steady the Dragoon, warm breath now lingered above the Commander’s piqued ears. 

Piqued ears, which drew back as the Dragoon’s purr lay on them thick, and the Lord sighed deep and loud.  _ “Estinien… _ Esti--  _ Please, _ do  _ something… _ Anything--”

“-- Do  _ what _ , I am afraid? I know naught of what you’d wish for me t--”

“-- By the  _ Fury _ , Estinien,” Aymeric’s growl was impatient and wanton, “Your-- your  _ lips, _ between my legs. Where they were earlier!”

The other’s laugh was low,  _ teasing. _ “Oh? So  _ exactly _ where they were?”

Aymeric would’ve pardoned himself and his behavior, had he not been so desperate. What hands had been urgently grasping at the other’s hips, leaving bruises in their wake, suddenly shoot up-- they take the Dragoon by surprise, ripping the shirt from Estinien’s shoulders. Afterwards, the hands find themselves one of two places: the first being clenched tightly on the other’s chest, the Lord’s own nails bearing slightly into the other’s skin, and the next having taken the Fighter’s  _ long _ locks betwixt his fingers. He laced them for but a moment, before tensing his grip and guiding the other’s head back down to his thighs.

As talkative as the Dragoon could be when pushed, both saw no need for further comment.

Hands wrapped around Aymeric, his arousal slick with pre due to all the relentless teasing, the pent up feelings and emotions that’d lead to this moment. The touch was already enough to make the Lord roll his hips into the other’s hands just slightly, but Estinien waited for the initial pleasure to die down, and for de Borel to let his hips lower back onto the bed. He awaited with a gaze of piercing ice, and Aymeric couldn’t help but bite his lip as the other watched.

Estinien stayed his hand at the base of the other’s cock for only a moment, but slowly began to run his fingers in slow pumping motions. He knew the other was large, but… with each time they drew closer, and joined with one another once again, something about Aymeric always seemed to strike him with awe. He could examine the way the other looked for hours, the gentle curve which he wrapped his fingers around… the adorable pink of the head, while the shaft was rosy and begged for any kind of contact. Just the sight, the feeling of the firm skin in his hands was enough to make the Dragoon ere hungry for  _ more. _

His hands traveled carefully about the other’s shaft, swirling around to ensure the other was slick. Letting his hands run over the slit of the other was absolutely  _ blissful _ , thumbing over each rise and fall in the skin and causing the Lord Commander to arch his back and keen, mouth open and alive with whines and moans that played as a broken record to the Dragoon’s ears. He’d run over it slowly, watching how each movement caused a red flush to flower wider across all of the Lord’s extremities.

_ “Estin-- nnnnhhm…” _ Each pulse of the Dragoon’s thumb running near the head of Aymeric’s length caused the latter man’s hips to buck, craving even  _ more _ friction, even  _ more _ action. It took a slight while for Estinien to oblige, as he was quite fond of watching the other’s precum run across the top of his hands… But the sight of the man between de Borel’s legs lapping the pre onto his tongue, looking at the Lord Commander with a wanton gaze and a wide smile, was enough to cause a loud moan, cracking hard in Aymeric’s voice.

The Lord Commander fervently wished he could wrap his legs around the other’s back, pull him in closer and cry to the high heaven’s… but those hands bore his muscles down into the seat behind him, and the tongue that swiped across the reddening peak of his dick was only but a glancing flash of ecstasy. He tightened his grip on Aymeric’s hair, and whined,  _ “P-please, more… _ Keep  _ going _ …”

“Hmmmm…?”

“I need to  _ feel _ you, Estinien, by the Fury…”

There’s a sharp inhale of breath, as the Dragoon hums in slight agreement. Wrapping his lips to the head of the other’s legnth and suckling intently, Esitnien pushes the other’s legs down further, exposing supple and sensitive skin. After a small while of teasing, sliping his tongue around the other’s cock and lapping up pre as it slowly dripped, he took the other into his mouth further, and started to work his way deeper.   
  
Toes curled, Aymeric couldn’t keep a series of gasps and cries that were akin to prayer from his breath. His legs resisted,  _ desperate _ for Estinien’s warm body to cling to, to but no avail. It was equally as enchanting to watch the Dragoon’s muscles ripple with each movement, as it was to watch his head slowly bob up and down. The Lord Commander’s nerves were alight with the flame of passion and bliss, sending tingling pangs through each of his muscles that caused him to rock his hips into the other’s mouth with no thinking.  _ “Fuck _ , Estinien--” It felt as though he was heaven-touched.

Each slight movement caused an appreciative purr to resound in the other’s throat. His voice, clearly, was occupied with other things. A loud smack resounded around the small lounge, as Estinien finally pushed himself off of Aymeric for a moment, and the Lord Commander was a  _ mess _ of moans, crying for the pleasure he’d been feeling only moments earlier. Fortunately, the pressure returned, and  _ harder _ this time-- faster. Teeth brushed with his skin in momentary glances, a feeling that jolted the Lord back to reality for only a swift moment, before the curves of the other’s mouth and lips spirited his rational thoughts away once more.

Hungry growls caused deep vibrations, and all around Aymeric’s cock; it sent him over the edge.

It wasn’t long before the Commander tugged harsh at Estinien’s hair, trying to close  _ any _ distance as the pleasure that pooled restless within his limbs started to scream and threatened to force itself through. By the  _ Fury _ , he was close-- the edges of his vision were whitening, stars tickling at the edges. Aymeric clutched for something, his own hands eager to find some kind of anchor, as his hips tensed alongside each and every muscle.

“Oh,  _ Estinie-- _ I am going to-- nngnh!” It  _ welled _ inside of him, the pleasure was  _ mounting, _ it was tearing at his limbs and thoughts, eager.

But then, the other stopped. Mouth still wrapped around the other’s dick, there was only a sly smirk on the face of the Dragoon... The Lord, sheepishly peering through desperate fingers.

_ No. _

Frantic were the Lord’s motions, all the frustration still rolling around his body. It kicked and screamed, the desperation hitching in his lungs as he tried to process the sudden lack of pleasure, and the fact that he was  _ so _ close… he teetered right on the edge…

Trying to snap his hips forward for friction with met with resistance-- Estinien’s hands pressing firm down, locking them into place. Slowly, he rose from above the other’s member, tantalizingly raking over the man afore him with eyes of heavy desire.

Aymeric’s grip hastened in Estinien’s hair. “ _ I’m begging, _ stop not now, Estinien...”

“Oh, if only I wasn’t thinking of what awaited us in my room, Aymeric...” Finally, he relinquished his lips from between the other’s legs. Estinien’s voice was teasing as the breath that tickled the head of Aymeric’s cock. There’s a gruff moan that rises in the Lord’s throat, before it’s replaced by a whine of exasperation.

“I-- I am…” He attempted to find the words that floated in his mind, but there was only  _ one thing _ on it right now that he craved so harshly, all other thoughts were lost. “ _ So _ close… Estinien, so close…”

A wry chuckle from the man between his legs, a moment of warm satisfaction-- before, once again, it was taken away.   
  
_ “Please.” _

“Were I to let you, this entire endeavour will have only lasted us a few minutes. Tell me, Aymeric, that the grand night you were envisioning ‘twixt the two of us was only to last a mere handful?” Still, the breath wraps around the other, and Aymeric tries all that he can to lean into it-- the frustration tears at his soul.

Defeated, the Commander sighs.

The Dragoon releases the pressure from Aymeric’s thighs, pushing himself to his feet. While de Borel was unable to see it while the other man was sprawled between his legs, he seemed to  _ very _ much enjoy the nights happenings so far-- the bulge that tented the other’s pants was mesmerizing in of their own right, and the Lord Commander swore he could stare at it all night… but inklings of frustration still ebbed in his chest, as Estinien reached for his shirt, and handed his companion the discarded pants from earlier.

It took a moment for Aymeric to revel in the various feelings pooled in his chest, allowing the former scene to wash over him for just a moment more, as he watched Estinien slip his tank top over glistening muscle and hard nipples, and turn back to face him.

Clumsily throwing pants over his… weeping manhood, Aymeric awkwardly stood himself up and meandered up to the doorway. With each pounding of his heart, the member between his legs pulsed and cried for pleasure, and such  _ burned _ Aymeric with a frustration unlike any other.

However, as Estinien poised himself aside the other, and slipped a warm, steady hand to de Borel’s wrist… a new flood of emotion flowered in bloom, that lead them silently through the halls.

Silently… albeit not so awkward.

(Almost.)

 

~~~

 

“There’s oil in the nightstand,” instructed Aymeric in a hushed tone as both men quickly slipped into Estinien’s makeshift quarters. The Dragoon followed the other’s commands, hastily ripping the bottle from a shelf within the small bedside desk.

“Aye. I thank you, Aymeric.” Estinien strode over, and grabbed the hem of the other’s shirt, tugging upwards. 

Aymeric lifted his arms so the other could do so with ease, before looking at the other once more and mentioning, “Aye... and ‘tis not your only gift. I would have you peer within the drawer once more.”

The comment raised a brow from Estinien’s face, and de Borel only gave a winsome grin in response.

As Estinien strode his way back over to the nightstand, Aymeric pulled himself onto the bed-- large in size, with a canopy of fine silks above that shone like the night sky, as it was oft missing in the clouds above Ishgard. The Lord Commander set to stripping his pants next, his length softened with the impromptu journey taken to the room, but still plump with the excitement of actions prior. He awaited, legs spread just so slightly, watching Estinien work from between them.

Throwing the drawer open, the Dragoon rummaged around inside for a moment. A confused expression crossed his features, until he drew the contents from within, and it melted into eager excitement…

Ribbons of silk, azure in hue.   
  
There was an almost embarrassed rush that snaked through Aymeric as he saw Estinien flash hungry eyes over the Lord Commander once more. He felt an eager warmth returning to his face and limbs, the smile upon his lips only broken by a small chuckle.

“I must admit,” the man across from Aymeric climbed onto the bed, carefully tearing his own top off, before climbing over to the Lord Commander and preparing the silk, “of all the gifts I ere been given…”

Aymeric is too flustered for response, and Estinien is too eager to finish his own. Both stare at each other with heavy gazes, before the Dragoon moves in and starts to tie up his gift. The first is a smaller ribbon, that’s tied around the other’s cock, slick beads of moisture still forming on the tip, before the action of Estinien’s deft hands forced them down the shaft. The treatment, while tender, still drew breathy sighs from the Lord, tipping his head back and closing his eyes just slightly to drink in the feeling. The ribbon is pulled tight-- assurance that de Borel will  _ not _ finish before the Dragon has had his way.

When prodded to roll over and offer his wrists, the Lord Commander merely obliged. The quicker they were through with this part, the quicker their night could continue-- which is what he was  _ praying _ for. The silk was bound firm around his wrists, before a touch to Aymeric’s neck made the man shiver and tense just slightly. The last of the silk was tied around the other’s eyes, and like so, the handiwork was done.

Lifting himself up for a moment, Estinien admired the sight before him… The hues of the silk drank in the light and dark of the room, shimmering regally with each movement the man beneath him made. He also had to say, that Aymeric  _ damn _ well deserved to be tied up as a gift, if this is how he looked… When he prompted the other to turn back over, and cum dripped from the other slick onto the muscles of his abdomen, against everything else it was  _ perfect. _ Red cheeks, tense muscle… almost, as if by instinct, Aymeric’s legs were once against spread, as the other attempted to resist against his bindings for a moment, but to no avail.

Clothing had since been abandoned to the floor. Estinien’s own arousal was begging to be free from his comfortable wear, eager to finally see some of its own action. There were also smatterings of white that danced across, but none like de Borel…

Both men were thick and plump, just one look was enough to say. Estinien’s had a slight curve that wasn’t nearly as drastic as Aymeric’s, but still a sight that would cause the Lord to breathe in bated breaths, were his eyes free.

An eagerness swirled between the two of them, and it wasn’t long before the Dragoon placed his hands on Aymeric’s shoulders, and  _ bore _ him down into the bedsheets. Their eager hips locked together, as their legs intertwined, and the gasp that followed knocked Aymeric clear out of breath. Both of their cocks brushed up against each other, the warmth and the firm feeling that they carried causing both to let low grunts and moans of pleasure. Where they had been softened from the trek back to the room, all of that suddenly dissipates-- both are solid given a moments time, despite the fact that Estinien stays all action in his hips.

There’s hungry panting betixt the two, Aymeric’s head snapping around in wordless complaint, as his lips move to attempt and search for words. Estinien lies above him with jaw slightly agape, watching the sight of unparalleled beauty attempt to writhe beneath him. If this is how needy the Commander is when Estinien isn’t even inside of him, the Dragoon can only dream of what’s moments to come…

“ _ More _ …” They’re pleas laced with lust and instinct… Estinien ponders if the other even registered he was saying words, as he tips his head back and tries to snap his hips up for more friction.

“So impatient…” It’s a sly murmur from the Dragoon, as he reaches over for the vial of oil and dips fingers in to slick them. “Just know; the more you beg, the faster I’ll go, the rougher I’ll be.”

Estinien draws a cry from Aymeric’s lips when he lifts his hips for a moment, only for the cries to be reinvigorated by the soft strokes of slicked hands up and down the Lord Commander’s shaft. Slicking it with oil, he made sure to catch his fingers just below the head of the other’s legnth, and curl his fingertips slowly over to extract a glazed over, “ _ Keep goi-ing… _ ”

He rolls the hand over the other, feeling the Lord buckle and roll his hips as the Dragoon did so. However, he couldn’t linger-- drew slicked hand over his own member, and allowed a few warm drops of pre to fall onto Aymeric’s chest below. The sudden feeling caused a whimper from the knight that lay beneath. All was through touch and feeling… and when Estinien growled the other’s name hard through a few rough strokes, the cracking gasp from beneath the Dragoon came as no surprise whatsoever.

Then, he set his hips back down. Then, there was friction once again, and hands that struggled in silk bindings, dreaming of welting stings and curling nails down Estinien’s back. The Dragoon started a slow pace with moving his hips, the gliding feeling as each of their dicks slid against each other was enough to fill them with enough momentary ecstasy and appreciative moans. Aymeric’s were higher pitched, a bit more needy and full of want than Estinien’s low growl.

“Estinien…” Aymeric’s voice hung onto the ‘n’, lacking the ability to drop it through all the pleasure that shot warm and needy through his limbs, “P-please…”

The Lord Commander’s face turns into the bedsheets, murmuring something that the Dragoon can’t quite catch. Instantly, Estinien drops his pace to a slower,  _ rougher _ speed. “There’s nothing I can do if I can’t hear your requests.”

“ _ Mmmnh… _ ” Clutching the sheets, the blindfolded Aymeric lets out a sigh of pent up anticipation, shortly breaking into a pant thereafter, as he moans with a strained rasp, “More…  _ More… _ Estinien,  _ fuck _ me!

The Dragoon rolls their hips together deeper, rougher, their slick members rubbing against one another with such bliss that it causes a stifled cry from the both of them-- especially as Estinien digs in deeper. His movements are quicker, much hungrier, the bed beneath them complaining under the strain of their moving weight. Though, such can barely be heard through the dripping growls and pitched whimpering of the two figures, intertwined in the sheets. Aymeric’s nails dug into his wrists, for lack of any better anchor.

After a round of whines and praise, Estinien stops for a moment. The hands that were on Aymeric’s shoulder _slowly_ drag downward, filling into and out of ever little peak and crevasse of the Lord Commander’s body. The Dragoon’s breath is hot on the other’s lips as he watches, the Commander’s breathing more urgent the longer the trail of flowering red those hands left behind.

It’s but a moment before that pressure is lifted from Aymeric’s hips, a flash of cold breeze in the wake of the warmth that’d been that nearly sends him rolling over with a whimper. However, it wasn’t solace from the wind that rolled him to his side, and then pulled him into the Dragoon’s bare lap. Strong hands were the catalyst that set the Lord into the other’s grasp, and a firm arm wrapping around the underside of his thighs that locked him there, and kept him from moving.

Here, he could feel the other’s warm breath against his ear, sending cold shudders down his spine with each breath that Aymeric  _ just _ couldn’t fight. The warmth pooling between his legs only cried for additional release, especially with the restraint tied, cutting all the pleasure begging for release and barring it tight. Even the slightest touch sent the Commander  _ reeling, _ absolutely dumbstruck as his mind tried to think of any way for him to receive the friction he craved. His hips, in this position, could only writhe just slightly, and rolling them proved no release as there was nothing  _ there. _ Too, he could feel Estinien behind him… the other against his back, pushing against him… but not too much yet.

The vial of oil they’d laid on the bed was opened, and Estinien slicked his fingers once more.

With careful precision, the Dragoon draws his fingers around the exposed underside of Aymeric, letting his hands drag themselves over receptive skin, soft and burning with heat for the other. Upon coming into contact with the other’s ring of muscle, he slowly dipped a finger inside, opening the way for another to follow. The intrusion causes the Lord to throw his head back against the other’s chest, his breath quickening and legs struggling as the fingers opened the way. The other inside of him felt warm and welcome, a presence that slipped easily into Aymeric, and washed over him with hot flashes and pangs of want.

A squeaky moan was pulled from the other’s lips, as Estinien hooked the fingers inside of the other, his fingertips hitting back against the other’s prostate. The sheer rush of pleasure that flooded over the Lord filled him with near alarm, attempting to break through the bindings as he was lost into a myriad of moans that wore down on his voice. “ _ Estinien, _ please! Right there, right--”

A rough, sloppy kiss collided with his jaw, hungry teeth pulling at warm skin, as a third slicked finger stretched its way into the other, and once again the gentle rhythm of Estinien’s moving hand kept Aymeric occupied long enough for him to get used to the feeling inside of him. Then, again, those fingers hooked, pressing up against the nerves that set the Commander on  _ fire. _ Everything was a blaze of pleasure, rocking hips trying to lean into the touch that pressed into him, feeling each wave of pleasure as the careful touch rocked inside of him.

“ _ A-Aaah… By the Fury, Estinien… _ ”

All of it was a tone of pure  _ lust _ , nails clamoring for some kind of hold, as the Dragoon growled a pleasant response. A sharp pain tugged at the Lord’s neck, as the hooked fingers teased. Aymeric’s cock was  _ ringing _ in his ears for the chance of release, but de Borel knew that the other would not be so kind… definitely not yet.

Having provided a suitable way of entry, Estinien slid each finger out slow… Feeling Aymeric writhe against the feeling as each digit left him, leaving behind an empty sensation, but too an opening eager and ready to receive.

The Dragoon readied himself, taking hold of his member and slicking it over with a touch more oil and a few more needy huffs washing over other’s skin.

Aymeric lifted his head, and looked over at Estinien, who stopped for a moment, both of their eyes locking… it was a silent moment between the two of them, before de Borel susurred, “Start slow, make me beg.”

The head of the other’s cock slowly slides inside of him, and Aymeric is lost once more to those warm pangs and breathy moans that wrap around him and the Dragoon embracing him from behind.

Estinien moves slow-- he’s… It embarasses Aymeric to say it so blunt, but he’s  _ massive. _ The size, even compared to the three fingers, is something that the Lord Commander has to get used to. There’s lots of hitched panting, the Dragoon pulling tighter on the other’s legs to allow him a more ample hold and way of entry inside of the other. The Lord could feel Estinien filling him, and such a feeling was warm, and shot with pulses of needing flashes across all of his limbs.

It took a while for the other to adjust, but fortunately, they had time. Aymeric would call for a momentary stop, to drink in how the other felt, before they would press onward. Eventually, as Estinien’s hips rolled up, and his back arched slightly, he’d been entirely accommodated inside of Aymeric, and the two took a moment to revel in the feeling. The Dragoon could  _ feel _ all of the Lord like this, and with how warm and deep it was, it made him eager for more… for friction, for building heat.

Sighs rolled from the other’s tongue like chords off a violin, as de Borel leaned back into Estinien, and reached his own teeth for the other’s neck. With the gesture, the Dragoon took it as his leave to continue the movement. Their hips were eventually locked into a dance, with the pace starting slow. As Estinien pushed up, Aymeric’s hips tried to buckle down into the feeling, and as he pulled away, the Lord Commander rolled his own hips back, so as to ride each and every edge. All was tender and warm, the moment here shared between them left a fuzzy heat dancing in Aymeric’s chest, and running down his legs…

With each inward push, Estinien’s cock had no problem hitting all of the other’s good spots, curling the Lord Commander’s toes and fingers, as he eagerly accepted the reverberating pleasure that sung through each onze of his body.

Leaning his head into the cook of the other’s neck, Aymeric reached over with another needy nibble to the other’s neck, and a breathy sigh of, “Faster, Estinien…”

Warm moans melted around the two of them, as the Dragoon wordlessly obeyed. The speed hitched, and with it did the tone of Aymeric’s voice, and the urgency of his movements. He was starting to writhe quicker now, desperate to slip his bindings and seek the release his body so  _ desperately _ clambered for. Each rocking movement was another reminder of the ribbon tied skillfully to his erect member, barring anything but fantasy and idle begging pleasures from the reality of his situation.

With the faster movements, Estinien’s voice also rises in intensity. His grunts are deeper, more rough, The hands he has pulling the other’s legs up and above them bear into the Lord’s skin, leaving behind stinging red marks. Bruises in the morning, for sure…

A harder nip, elsewhere on the Dragoon’s neck. “ _ Faster, _ faster...”

The other obliges.  Their speed once again is causing the bed to squeal in distress, and such fills Aymeric with yet another flash of embarrassment to run through his body. An inkling inside of wants to ask the other to quiet himself, but… part knows the damage is done. It’d be a miracle of the gods if any of the other’s didn’t know what they were doing, but the thrill of the other’s actions were the only thing that stopped him from caring so much. Each time the head of the other’s length hit that bundle of nerves inside of him, and how often it would do so… how intense…

“ _ Fuck, _ Estinien,  _ please--” _ Aymeric bites his lips, the desire  _ overwhelming _ each sense as each movement fills him with feelings his can no longer ignore. The writhing in his body peaks, he’s moving as much as he possibly can, hitting back into the other and breaking into his moans with  _ more _ moans. His pleasure teeters right on the edge, and how  _ desperately _ he wishes for it to be enough to remove these lashes and bindings on his body. “ _ Please let me cum, Estinien!” _

The proposal raises a gruff grunt in Estinien, that melts into an actual moan riding in his throat. It hitches on each of the movements in Aymeric’s body as he struggles for any amount of freedom. Surrendered to the other’s whims is such a tantalizing fantasy, but with how both of them are…

They’re close.  _ So _ close.

“Take the ribbon  _ off, _ use your hands,” the Lord Commander has absolutely lost himself into the feeling, to the rhythm, “I could  _ whine  _ your name for a million nights more Estinien… if that’s what it would take-- I  _ need _ it.”

Estinien loosens an arm from the other’s legs, reaching down. His fingertips play over the tip of the other for a moment, and the feeling shoots a  _ raw _ pleasure coursing through the other’s veins. But it’s only a moment, before…

The other finds an end of the ribbon, and yanks it off. Quickly takes Aymeric into his hands, and the man clamps his fingertips just beneath the head of the Lord Commander’s cock. He’s not getting that release  _ yet _ , and the whine that falls from de Borel’s lips is loud, entirely unbidden, and an outcry of frustration that reverberates so loud it shakes even Estinien for a moment.

Until both their voices rise in unison-- the tension building inside of Estinien’s body through all these motions has been steadily mounting, each voice he draws from the other’s body is another reason for him to buck his hips quicker. Each movement is call for him to move faster, with less inhibition. Steadily… steadily it’s been mounting inside of him. Until this moment-- the ecstasy that courses through his veins is rapidly multiplying, it overwhelms every sense until  _ all _ Estinien can feel is the member he’s shoved between Aymeric’s legs, and the pressure mounting within.

It happens a bit all at once.

A few more authoritative pounds against the other’s body, before the pleasure hits its peak, and Estinien is near howling the other’s name, his movements losing control as he spasms for a moment, and hot cum slides from his cock, and down… He hasn’t even left the other by the time the cum drips from his shaft, Estinien panting loudly.

Meanwhile, it’s only a few strokes of Aymeric’s dick that sends him reeling-- a shock that hits him hard, and can only be filled by the release of a low, endorphin-laden voice, settled near the lobe of Estinien’s ear and eagerly biting on. The release is sticky, it runs all over Aymeric’s chest, and down his thighs… For how pent up he’s been, there’s so much that the warm liquid rolls down onto Estinien’s thighs thereafter, and both of them are lost in moans of settling passion.

It’s pure white that coats the edges of Aymeric’s open-eyed vision, and inky darkness that fills Estinien’s, as the Dragoon lays with eyes shut.

For a moment, there’s no movement, but the heaving of heavy bodies atop and below one another. There’s the swirling tension that fades, and with it brings… a contented sort of calm, that washes over each and every one of them.

It’s Estinien who speaks first, what seems many moments after; voice coarse and barely above a whisper. “Aymeric… allow me to clean the two of us…” It’s a lilt filled with something sweet, something warm and thoughtful.

Aymeric merely shakes his head, still panting on the now cold sweat of the other’s neck, before he slowly rolls off of the other, and onto the stone tile of his floor. “Nay, I would have you stay. You just arrived here, you deserve the rest.”

De Borel’s shaky on his feet, as he goes to retrieve towels from a nearby basin in the room.

As he leaves the bed, however, he shoots a look back at Estinien, just barely open-mouthed and softly sighing, ready to let sleep take him after a long journey. It leaves a warm inkling of light in the Lord Commander’s heart, as still trembling legs carry him to and fro, wiping the two of them clean. He attempts to return their pajamas, but Estinien is only awake and coordinated enough at the moment to slip his shirt on-- seemingly prefers to keep it that way, as he lays himself down on the bed, and lets a sigh snake around the two of them.

Aymeric was a bit more modest, but only slightly so. Just his shirt, and underclothes. However, afterward he pulled up behind Estinien, and wrapped his arms around the near-sleeping dragoon.

Both let the washing ebb and flow of their sighing, airy breath guide the two of them. The Dragoon’s eyes fluttered, but not with dreams-- visions of a journey past, and a life to live tomorrow. The warm, sturdy wrapping of the other knight’s arms around his waist found him like an anchor, that tethered to him, and kept him feeling safer… Feeling warm and fuzzy amidst all else.

The Lord Commander leeched the heat of the other’s body, after wrapping the two of them in blankets. For once, it was almost like when they were young knights again… Before their duties occupied them, and before there was aught else in the world for them to worry about. How they would slip into each other’s bed chambers, and the outcome… nearly always the same. Never much more than a few choice words spoken between them, as they didn’t quite know what to call the attraction, nor… did they quite want to call attention to it at the time.

But now, both were here. Both had found each other again, as time so often allowed, and both were…

Warm.

Aymeric wrapped his hand around one of Estinien’s hands, sighing as the fingers interlocked together.

“Was there aught else you found on your sojourn?” The Lord Commander quietly croaked, head nestled in with the hickes on the other’s neck.

Estinien tries to grunt, but it comes through as more of a soft sigh with the lack of voice to support it. “... That…” Pulling back the other’s hair just slightly, Aymeric leans in, and gives the back of Estinien’s neck a soft kiss.

There’s a short silence.

“Hm?”

Estinien shuffles, almost as if slightly embarrassed, though… too tired to care for it; kicking his legs just slightly, leaning back into the other’s body as they found solace in one another. “That I missed home.”

_ ‘That I missed you.’ _

Aymeric  lazily thumbs over the other’s knuckles, and sighs a soft breath. “Home has missed you too, Estinien.”

_ ‘As did I.’ _

The Dragoon just chuckles, and shakes his head a small bit, but he raises no other outward complaint. Reaching over to snuff the light on the bedside table, Aymeric… finds himself doing something strange. Something he’d never done before.

Reaching over the other’s near-sleeping body, when he pushed himself back, he hovered slightly above the other’s form. Taking Estinien’s face between a few careful fingers, de Borel leaned in, and placed a kiss on his Dragoon’s lips.

Warm… sweet… short… Not the sloppy, hot kisses, consumed by lust and sinful thought, but…

_ Happy.  **Loving**. _

He touches his forehead with the other, and lets the warmth ensorcell their bodies for a spell. He swears, in the dim light of the room, he can see the other smiling, the Dragoon turns his head away from the other and tries to produce a huff that… he just can’t bring himself to make.

A kiss to the other’s shoulders, as Aymeric lays beside him, and takes the man back up in his arms once more.

“... Welcome home, dearest Estinien.”


End file.
